The flying boat soared swiftly above the clouds.
Bai Qingxue reclined on her bed, not yet asleep.
At this moment, the moon outside the porthole was perfectly round, resembling a jade plate.
Moonlight filtered through the window, casting a small patch of silver-white across her bedside.
Bathed in the moonlight, Bai Qingxue pulled the pendant from beneath her collar.
The ice-blue stone lay in her palm; as the moonlight struck it, the stone emitted a faint, cold glow.
Lying back down, Bai Qingxue faced the porthole.
Outside, the moon remained fixed in its place.
The moon did not brighten because Bai Qingxue was looking at it, nor would it go out if she looked away.
Bai Qingxue was looking at this moon.
Xiao Nanyuan was looking at this very same moon.
The thought appeared without reason and passed just as inexplicably.
Bai Qingxue did not wonder where the thought had come from, nor did she consider whether it was true.
She simply noticed its appearance and then its disappearance.
Bai Qingxue rolled over, facing the wall.
There was a long, thin scratch on the cabin wall, extending from the middle to the corner. It was unknown when it had been made.
Bai Qingxue stared at that scratch for a long time.
Suddenly, she pulled the blanket up to her chin. The pendant pressed against her collarbone, as warm as her own body temperature.
Then, she closed her eyes and whispered to herself.
“Goodnight.”
Her voice drifted through the cabin.
The walls were soundproof, and the low hum of the operating formations seemed to swallow all other sounds.
Tonight, Bai Qingxue simply lay there, doing nothing else, while the hum of the formations remained wrapped around her.
Outside the porthole, the moon shifted toward the edge until only a small sliver remained.
Bai Qingxue did not look.
The moonlight leaking from the edge of the porthole grew narrower and narrower, finally becoming a thin line before vanishing entirely.
The cabin fell into darkness.
Bai Qingxue kept her eyes open in the dark, listening to the hum for a while before closing them again.
“Goodnight.”
She said it once more.
This time was even softer than the last—so soft that even she could barely hear it.
...
In the guest courtyard, Xiao Nanyuan sat by the stone table.
The coarse ceramic cup was in her hand, the tea already cold.
A thin film had formed on the surface of the tea; the moonlight reflected off it with a dull, somber matte.
She did not drink. She simply held the cup, feeling the grainy texture of the ceramic against her fingertips.
The seat across from her was empty.
The white porcelain cup used for tea sat overturned. From the moment Bai Qingxue had left, it had not been turned back over.
Xiao Nanyuan reached out and flipped it over.
There was a small chip on the rim.
She rotated the chip until it faced the empty seat across from her.
After watching it for a while, she turned it back over.
The bottom of the cup met the stone table with a soft click.
Then Xiao Nanyuan stood up and walked into the main room.
Her low bed was still in its original place.
The bedding was folded neatly, and the breathing method manual lay beside the pillow, open to a specific page.
Bai Qingxue had turned to that page when she left, and she hadn't closed it.
Xiao Nanyuan hadn't closed it either.
She took off her shoes and lay down.
Once on the low bed, Xiao Nanyuan picked up the jade talisman from beside her pillow.
She did not inject any spiritual power; she simply held it up before her eyes. The moonlight passing through the green jade surface tinted her fingers green.
Xiao Nanyuan watched the light, seeing her fingers become blurred shadows behind the jade talisman.
She suddenly remembered the way Bai Qingxue had looked at her.
At the gate of the guest courtyard.
The wind had been very strong that morning, making the old pine tree outside the mountain gate howl.
She had stood there, hands tucked into her sleeves, nails digging into her palms.
When Bai Qingxue walked out, the hem of her robe was tossed by the wind, and several strands of her silver-white hair flew across her face, left unbrushed.
Xiao Nanyuan pressed the jade talisman to her chest. It hurt as it pressed into her palm, but she did not let go; instead, she pressed it a little tighter.
“Goodnight, Immortal Sister.”
Xiao Nanyuan’s voice drifted through the main room, yet no one would respond to her—just as it would be every day from now on.
Even so, Xiao Nanyuan still waited for a moment.
What was she waiting for?
She didn't know herself. Perhaps for the jade talisman to light up, perhaps for someone to push the door open from outside, or perhaps for that familiar “Mhm” to come from beside her.
But the reality was that there was nothing, and there would be nothing.
Xiao Nanyuan placed the jade talisman back beside her pillow.
She rolled onto her side, facing the window.
Outside, the moon hung there, perfectly round.
Is the Immortal Sister also looking at the same moon?
The thought suddenly surfaced in Xiao Nanyuan’s mind, as if seeping out from somewhere very, very deep.
Xiao Nanyuan didn't know if Bai Qingxue was looking.
She just knew.
Just as she knew that cold tea should be refilled, that a lamp should be lit when it gets dark, and that one should keep waiting for a person to return.
When she looked at the moon, a voice in her heart said: She is looking too.
Xiao Nanyuan believed that voice.
Because if she didn't believe it, tonight would be far too long.
Xiao Nanyuan pulled the blanket over her head and curled into a ball. Her knees touched her chest, her hands tucked between her knees.
The jade talisman was by the pillow, separated from her by the blanket.
She wanted to reach out for it but didn't move.
Xiao Nanyuan waited. She waited for the moonlight to move from one end of the window lattice to the other, waited for herself to fall asleep, or waited for dawn.
She didn't know which one she was waiting for.
The moon moved.
Very slowly.
So slowly that one could not feel it.
But it was moving. The shadows of the window lattice shifted across the wall, moving from left to right.
Just as she was waiting. Even if no one saw it, she knew she was waiting, and that was enough.
She waited for a long time.
The moon moved past the window lattice. The main room fell into darkness.
The shadow of the lattice disappeared, replaced now by a solid wall of black. Nothing could be seen.
Xiao Nanyuan opened her eyes and reached out to touch the jade talisman by her pillow.
Her fingertips rested on the smooth jade surface, feeling a refreshing coolness.
“Goodnight.”
Having said it, she gripped the jade talisman in her palm, squeezing it until her knuckles turned white.
It was as if by gripping it tightly enough, those two syllables wouldn't dissipate; they would stay in her palm, held together with the jade talisman, waiting for tomorrow.
Outside the window, the moon was no longer visible.
In the courtyard, only the shadow of the old locust tree remained, spread darkly across the ground, the stone table, and that leaf she had set aside.
The wind passed through the branches, making a very soft sound, like something sighing.
Xiao Nanyuan closed her eyes. That spot in her chest still seemed to ache, as if something were empty.
Tomorrow, Xiao Nanyuan would still flip the white porcelain cup over, would still face the chip toward that empty seat, and would still sit by the stone table when it grew dark, waiting for a door that would not open.
Just like every other day.
Yet, different from every other day.
Because tomorrow, she would be one day closer to the return of the person she was waiting for.
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